


Whispers In The Dark

by OpaqueXApathy



Category: Ghost Whisperer, Supernatural
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Dead Dean, F/M, Ghost Dean, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpaqueXApathy/pseuds/OpaqueXApathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is saved, the apocalypse is over, and the Winchesters saved the world. Again. But the cost was a brother and while Dean may have passed on, he certainly hasn't crossed over. There's one more thing left he has to do and one more thing he has left to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> So... recently started watching Ghost Whisperer and this happened. Yep. But while I love the idea of Dean and Melinda, I never like pushing out a significant other if everyone can get along. So I just can't push out Jim. He's too awesome for that anyway.

Grand View wasn't exactly the biggest town in the world, laying just on the outskirts of New York but close enough to give the residents all of the amenities within the space of a twenty minute drive. To Melinda it was absolutely perfect.

It was everything she had always wanted without the sacrifices.

She had found the love of her life, now husband, in Grand View and pursued and accomplished her biggest dream of opening an antique store. Settling down was naturally what they were doing. And she was sometimes surprised by how easy it was. Save of course for the occasional ghost who needed an intervention or a helping hand. 

Yes her life was near to picture perfect with just a 'small' – weird twist. All right... possibly bigger than just a small one.

She took them as they came, she was forced to turn down the ones she couldn't help. But that happened very rarely. Actually in a place like Grand View her cases were sometimes by the month and not one after the other like they could be. Grand View had been the perfect settling point it seemed between two worlds. Not nearly big enough to completely overwhelm and drown her though sometimes it did touch on overwhelming, it was far, _far_ easier for her to take than a large bustling city. She was grateful her grandmother had the hindsight to steer her here out of nothing that had to do with clairvoyance. Extremely grateful.

She couldn't ignore her calling, it just wasn't in her to try even if she could. With Grand View at least she could take them as they came and enjoy the peace and silence when no one from the beyond needed her.

It worked. And though it was occasionally tough it was her life and she knew how to balance between the two and enjoy her life as it happened, despite whatever came her way.

And then Mrs. Margret Grace, co-founder of Grand View, passed away.

The community of Grand View had been saddened but her death had been peaceful and natural. Melinda's antique shop suddenly became nearly sunk with appraisals with strict orders from Margret’s lawyers to forward eighty percent of the proceeds to the city on her own orders. Her husband had passed away some time ago, nearly decades in fact, and the charitable woman while a bit eccentric would have had it no other way. Celebrations honoring her and her life were already well under way. Melinda herself was both staggered by the amount of priceless antiques she suddenly found herself in charge of and humbly amazed.

Melinda didn't like to make a profit off of death. She'd never seen it that way. She preferred to be the caretaker of possessions left behind should they fall into her area of expertise. And handle them with care she did and then some. Everything was priceless to her because it had been valued by someone else – regardless of the price tag or the result of the appraisal.

For weeks she expected the other shoe to drop or _something_. Margret's unsettled ghost, that of her husband, a family member protesting to the huge upending to her life and possessions. She expected a whirlwind of spiritual energy alone from the number of possessions that passed through her shop. But there was nothing.

It even lulled her into a complete sense of serenity.

It was only when her, Jim, and Andrea went to her estate as everything was nearly concluded to do the last part of things did that all suddenly change.

The only thing left on the estate was her husband's small automobile collection. A majority of them had already been auctioned off or put into the appropriate hands. Same As It Never Was Antiques wasn't specialized or geared towards cars and Melinda had left them in more capable hands and under proper supervision. But there was two she was told that had been in Mrs. Grace's possession with her the sole title owner. As Melinda and Andrea had been put in charge of most of her estate, the responsibility of those two cars suddenly fell to her.

This didn't bother Melinda, who had already called in an expert to meet her back at the shop. Andrea and Jim were going to serve as drivers and supervisors to take them back but Melinda felt like surprising Jim with that bit of news later. While her husband wasn't an absolute gear head he liked to cars just as much as most men – especially the classics. Melinda herself was excited both to show the cars to him and then happily give him a choice between the keys to which one he wanted to drive back to her and Andrea's shop.

“So what two cars are we looking for and where did they leave them?” Jim asked, hands in his pockets as they walked across a short paved drive behind a personal and secured garage that had required key-coded access from the gates by a security guard. Melinda was well and used to that by now.

Melinda flipped up the pages of her clipboard, looking around as they walked. “Uh... a cream and navy blue Daimler 1951 DB18 Empress-”

“Ah yeah no clue.” Jim said, coming to a stop and making a small turn.

“And a 1967 black four door Chevy Impala.”

“Bingo.”

Melinda lifted her gaze and immediately her eyes found where Jim's had settled.

“Hold on, hold on.” Andrea said, frowning and taking the clipboard from Melinda's hands as she balanced her cell phone with the other. “This isn't right. I got a text just now saying Mrs. Grace's lawyer has listed the Impala as 'relinquishment to the city of Grand View denied or forgone'. Which... puts it in our hands?”

Melinda nodded, letting out a breath and putting her hands on her hips, surveying the large black muscle car in front of her. “I guess so.” she lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Well we'll appraise it just like everything else and put it up for sale. Unless you want it.” she grinned briefly at her husband, giving him a playful nudge.

“I'm not sure I could afford it.” Jim laughed a bit but he sounded pretty serious, eliciting a bit of a frown from Melinda. It wasn't that they _couldn't_ afford it. They could probably get a loan, handle half right away or perhaps more. It wasn't entirely out of their reach and really there wasn't anything she wouldn't deny him. It would have made an amazing wedding present if she'd have known ahead of time considering his first reaction.

“Would you actually want it?”

“It's a nice looking car but probably not. Besides our two car garage is barely a one car garage right now. Try and park that thing in there and we might lose the garage _and_ the house.”

Melinda relaxed and laughed, holding out the pair of keys she'd been given this morning. “Okay well which one do you want to drive to the antique store?”

Jim gave her a surprised look, glancing at the keys and back at her again, almost appearing speechless. “Me? I thought someone was going to pick them up!”

“Nope. Whichever one you want.”

“That's an incredible offer but isn't that like a liability or something?”

“Which I accept.” she continued patiently, smile only growing, “Come on! Your pick.”

Before he could, Andrea reached out and grabbed the Daimler's key set and started off for the garages. “Too late. I'm taking the Empress.”

Melinda gave her a bit of a shocked glare through a smile, well nothing really shocked her about her closest friend anymore, but the tall darker skinned woman just gave her a smile and a shrug. “Oh come on I knew he was going to go for the Impala. Duh!”

Jim gave her a smile and grinned briefly at Melinda, taking the key from her hand. “She was right.”

Melinda felt a bit giddy as she followed Jim towards the waiting muscle car, it's black metal hide flawless and pristine, shinning even without the afternoon sun which was stubbornly staying behind a wall of light gray rain clouds. But as she grew closer, something heavy started settling in her stomach. Some sort of feeling or instinct she wasn't sure what to call it. But something about the car seemed to be trying to set off warning bells. And it wasn't even that so much. It was like the car had clinging residual spirit energy. No it was much, much more than that. It felt like the car had been washed, bathed, and _soaked_ in it. And not just from one spirit. It seemed to be a multitude of different energies all combining to form one thick aura that felt deep and almost permanent.

“Melinda?” Jim asked, concern touching his voice as he turned to give her a curious glance after opening the driver's side door.

“Uh...” Melinda tried to process the feeling, hesitatingly reaching out to rest her hand on the cool metal of the roof. “It's... I'm not sure what it is.”

“Ghosts? Spirits?” Jim asked, giving a questioning, quick look around.

“No...” Melinda frowned in concentration, trying to whisk away a headache that was threatening to form beyond her eyes. The car was just plain oppressive. It made her feel unusually intimidated. “This car just feels... _saturated_ in spiritual energy. It's unbelievable.”

Previous excitement gone, Jim gave the car a cursory, quick glance. “Should I... what should I do? What does that mean?”

“I don't know. The same thing?” she tried, giving a bit of a hapless gesture. “We can't just leave it out here.”

“Right.” Jim said, slipping into the driver's side and keeping the door open. But before he placed the key inside the ignition, he turned a look up at Melinda. “The movie Christine... that's not exactly possible is it? I mean...”

She smiled but it was hardly a joke. It would have been otherwise but she'd never felt an energy from a car like this before. Ever. She felt massively out of her depth.

“I honestly don't know. I've never experienced this before. I'm sure it'll be okay I'll just...” Melinda gave a somewhat wary look around, “-keep an eye out.”

Jim drew in a breath, let it out quick, and started the car.

Melinda felt the vibration under her hands as the car rumbled to life with what could only be called an aggressive crescendo of raw power, immediate and responsive. She refused to call it 'hungry' but it was a bit too tempting. She even felt it in her boots, the brief smell of exhaust permeating the air before it was caught on the breeze and lifted away from her.

Melinda looked around, holding her breath, almost warily peering over the top of the car. But the meadow where the car had been pulled away from the garages was silent. The air was still and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The car rumbled on, idle and waiting, not surging out of control or trying to kill them or anything else 'Christine' like.

She gave a shrug, pushing away from the car, and looked down at her husband. “Nothing.”

Jim let out a slow, deep breath, as if he'd been holding it. Melinda realized she'd been doing the same and let out a breath of her own, turned around and –

Screamed.

Quick and sharp before she could catch herself, she backed into the car so hard she actually felt the roof press painfully into her shoulders. There standing no more than _feet_ from her was a young man she knew Jim couldn't see, dark blonde hair, intense greenish hazel eyes staring hard at her, hands casually pressed into jacket pockets, booted feet planted what appeared to be firmly on the ground. Impressive considering she knew he was dead.

“Melinda?” Jim asked, alarmed, quickly getting out of the car, his body pressed against hers from where she refused to move. His superior strength won out though and she was pushed gently forward a step to make room for him, large hands gripping her arms both steadying and protective but not enough to hurt, never, firm chest and torso pressed against her back warm and solid.

It was extraordinarily grounding.

“What are you doing with my car?” the man asked flatly and judging by his tone, he wasn't pleased with the fact that they were doing _anything_ to it.

Melinda took a breath before speaking.

The man in front of her could be as old as Jim but seemed younger, maybe the same age as her, so she was guessing late twenties to early thirties. Jim only had a few years ahead of her in age though they shared the same birth month, Jim thirty one and herself twenty eight. The ghost in front of her seemed to rest between both of those numbers.

His clothes _could_ match the time period of the car but the jeans, green military cargo jacket, and plaid shirt beneath, and the black shirt beneath that looked fairly modern. The necklace around his neck, some sort of amulet, didn't seem to fit into the sixties either and his military crew cut was definitely something new. Which made him... very confusing. And since the car was pristine and not a wreck, it only made her even more confused as to what he was doing here and now. But there was no telling just how long this car had been sitting and what starting it had done. Obviously.

“My name is Melinda.” she started calmly after taking a minute to gather herself. The man's gaze in front of her was unwaveringly intense, pinning her to one spot. “I own an antique shop. Your car was listed for possession and sale under our discretion.”

“Sale? Possession? By whom?”

The last question was almost barked at her and she had to let a sudden wave of intensity in his energy wave over her and pass. It was hard not to become dizzy from it. She also couldn't help but feel like she was being interrogated. Usually she was the one asking the questions, guiding, and seeking out the truth. Being practically thrown onto the other side of things was beyond rattling.

“Mrs. Margret Grace. We're on her estate right now. She passed away last month.”

The name didn't seem to hold any recognition because the man in front of her looked a bit more confused and off put than before. “ _Who_? And how the hell did she get a hold of my car?” he demanded.

“Okay... okay.” Melinda tried calmly, raising her hands to try and placate the agitated spirit in front of her. “We can find that out. Together. I can help you.”

The man seemed to both take in all that she'd said, file it away, and then throw it out the window. “Who are you and how can you see me? Are you one of those psychics? Mediums or whatever?”

“Something like that yes. I consider it a gift. I help troubled spirits who haven't or can't cross over.” Taking a breath, Melinda gentled her tone, eying him sympathetically. He knew very well that he was dead. “I help them find peace so that they can move on.”

His reaction to that was hard for her to process. It was almost like she'd hit him but not quiet. While he physically reacted to what she said, his eyes almost flashed with a sense of panic and pain, almost too fast for her to even catch and he turned half of his body away from her, giving both Melinda and Jim a quick glance.

“What about him? And you are _not_ selling my car.”

The threat was genuine but it didn't feel dangerous. It didn't suggest harm, Melinda glancing over at Jim as well. “This is Jim, my husband. You can trust him just as you can trust me. He knows about my gift.”

“And he doesn't think you're a whack job?” Dean gave her a look and then shifted that look over to Jim, “Smart man.”

“Very much so yes.” Melinda relaxed into a smile, finally it seemed finding some of her breath and with it her footing in this situation. “What's your name?”

The man in front of her hesitated, his jaw working for a fraction of a second before he replied with what appeared to be reluctance and a wary glance. “Dean.”

“Dean.” she repeated. That was an older name. But again his wardrobe suggested otherwise. Melinda considered herself pretty fashion forward. While outwardly she could have easily thrown him into the era of his car she knew better with a closer look. Then the differences became glaringly obvious.

“So... my car. I don't know how it left a certain someone's hands-” and by the way he said 'certain someone' it definitely suggested both worry and if that worry wasn't justified, perhaps some sort of retribution on his part. “But this car does not belong to 'Margret-what's-her-face'. And if you want to help me, really help, then you'll help me find out why and how it got here.”

“Okay.” she agreed gently, reaching up to put a hand on Jim's arm, gently encouraging him to let her go as she stepped away from him. Melinda sent him a reassuring glace, that it was okay and she was fine, before looking back over at Dean. “Why don't you come with me back to my antique store and I'll make some calls. It shouldn't be hard to find out what you want to know.”

“Sure.” Dean said, but his eyes immediately fell to the driver's side.

Melinda felt a sympathetic pain at the look in his eyes and winced. “It's okay. Jim or I will drive. Can you...?”

“Yeah.” Dean said, giving Jim a look that suggested murder if anything happened to his car, before disappearing. Melinda turned back to the car, finding a bit of a gentle smile seeing the spirit known as Dean sitting sulkily in the passenger side, waiting, gaze a bit unfocused as he pointedly stared out the front window.

“We good?” Jim ventured tentatively.

“We're good.” Melinda assured him.

She gave Andrea the all clear to head back after informing her about all that had happened, scolding her when made observational comments about how Dean sounded attractive. Melinda scolded _herself_ for phrasing her descriptions of Dean in a way that could have been interpreted that way in the first place.

“So... what's your last name Dean?” Jim asked conversationally as they left the estate, Melinda suppressing a smile that twitched at her lips. She truly was the luckiest girl alive. She knew she could see Dean, see two men sitting in the front seat from her place in the back, but to Jim – he was talking to supposedly empty air and an empty seat.

Dean ignored him, lips tightening briefly, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the passenger side door as he turned his gaze back out the window.

Jim gave her a questioning look through the rear view mirror but she just gave a gentle shake of her head.

Dean was not happy with the news she turned over back at the antique store.

She had rescheduled the appraisals at least, before even reaching the store, not wanting to agitate Dean any further by discussing the possible sale price of what was no doubt a cherished personal possession. But when she told him that a nameless person had been paid in cash for the black Impala and the title had been destroyed 'agitated' didn't seem to be an appropriate word for it anymore.

“This doesn't make any sense.” Dean said, starting a restless, agitated pace back and forth across the back room of the store. “At _all_!”

Melinda fought back a wave of frustration, “Can you tell me more? Anything at all?”

Dean gave an irritated look at the wall that suggested he was done with her. And he confirmed it by suddenly stopping, turning, and advancing towards her with purposeful strides. So purposeful that she had to fight not to back away.

“Do _not_ sell my car.” he said, barely feet from Melinda now, voice low and intent. “If you want to help me, if that's what you do or whatever, do _not_ sell my car.” the next word sounded forced, as if it had cost a great deal to even utter. “Please.”

All she could do, staring into his intent, vibrant green eyes, was mutely manage a nod. It took her a nervous swallow to find words. “I won't.” she assured him. “I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied, Dean turned and made to leave the room.

“Wait!” Melinda called, hurrying to catch up with him. “What are you going to do? Where are you going?”

“To get some answers.” he said, barely sparing her a glance and not lessening his stride even slightly as he stepped through the back door. She almost ran into it, barely having time to reach down for the door handle but when she pulled it open – he was gone and the alleyway behind her store was completely empty.

 

TBC


End file.
